What The Body Hides
by SophieAngel69
Summary: What the body hides, the soul reveals. Beginning when Dean is raised from hell. Castiel had never seen the hunter's body, only the soul, so the angel crafts a fresh body to fit the rescued soul, unknowingly revealing Dean's greatest secret. Trans!Dean.
1. Chapter 1

Dean Winchester had never been normal. When he was four years old he carried his infant brother from the burning building which was the only home he would ever know.

After his mother perished in the fire his father took both Dean and his little brother Sam to a motel. "It's just temporary," he told Dean. "Just until we find a new place."

But temporary turned out to be a lot longer that little Dean had expected. John was busy, with the funeral at first, and then with house searching, it would be years before the old place was livable again and John didn't want to go back, not after Mary...

Without their mother Dean found himself watching Sam. John was busy, he would go to work, leaving Dean to play with Sammy. It wasn't hard, he would dangle toys in front of the baby, when Sam got hungry Dean would give him a bowl of the food John had left behind for him and wipe the messy baby off with a wet cloth when he was done. Changing nappies was easy, John would buy those disposable ones with the Velcro, getting Sammy to stay still was the hard part. When John was home from work he was sitting at the small table in the corner of the motel with a beer in hand going over papers. Dean didn't understand what the papers said, but they had pictures, some showed flowers, some showed big wooden boxes, and some showed gravestones. Dean guessed they were about his mother.

John tried, he tried to be there for them, but after the funeral he just couldn't keep going. After they lowered what was left of Dean's mother into the ground John took them back to the motel and drank until he passed out. Dean put a blanket over his father and picked up the little elephant toy on a string his brother liked.

Dean thought things would go back to normal after the funeral, but they only got worse. When John wasn't at work he was looking at pictures of houses and drinking until he fell asleep. The weeks turned into months, not that little Dean could tell, he didn't understand time as more than a day, he had been at the motel for an eternity. Eventually the pictures of houses went away and his father just drank and slept, until one day which sent them on a path Dean could never leave.

Dean was sick of playing with the elephant, elephants weren't green anyway. All of their toys had been burnt up in the fire and Dean missed his racecars. All he had was the stupid elephant and a teddy bear for Sam.

Dean wasn't great at telling the time, so he didn't know if his father was late coming home or not, but when the sun went down he knew something was wrong. Dean couldn't sleep that night, he stayed up watching the door for his father who didn't return. One day turned into two, and two turned into three, they were almost out of food when John finally walked in the door.

Dean watched his father limp into the room, his arm around a strange man. John smelt of booze and dirt, his clothes were stained in blood. The other man closed the door and John all but collapsed onto the bed.

The stranger looked around the room with a frown on his face, his eyes finally settling on Dean, clutching little Sammy protectively in his little arms. "Jesus John," the strange man finally spoke. "How long did you leave these kids here?"

John just groaned in response and the large man approached the two boys. Dean tightened his arms around Sam but the tall man just crouched in front of them and asked, "When did you last eat?"

Dean didn't know if he could trust the stranger but he told him that they had eaten this morning and the older man held out his hand. "I'm Bob," he introduced himself. "I'm a friend of your dad's, why don't I take you boys to get something to eat while he rests?"

Hesitant but hungry, Dean took Bob's hand.

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><p>When Dean was eight his father taught him to shoot. Things had been better once they met uncle Bobby. If John was away more than one day he would leave them with Bobby who made sure that they ate, slept, and bathed. Dean didn't know what his father did each day but he would be injured when he returned. Finally he asked uncle Bobby why his dad was always hurt and the older man explained that he was out fighting monsters so the boys would be safe. Dean understood after that that his father was a hero.<p>

When John decided he was old enough, he took Dean out to an old brick wall with no one around. John put a small gun into his son's hand and told him to point it at the wall and pull the trigger.

Dean didn't expect the gun to attack him but it jumped toward him when he pulled the trigger and caused him to fall back on his arse, his ears ringing from the deafening sound.

After that John picked Sam up from Bobby's and took them back to the motel, he said they could try again later. Dean wanted to be a hero like his dad, he didn't want his dad to know how his wrist hurt and his hands wouldn't stop shaking, how his butt hurt from where he fell and his ears wouldn't stop ringing.

The next day John looked at Dean's wrist, it was big and red. He told Dean he could not shoot until it was better.

It was a week before John took him out again and this time Dean was ready. John told him to keep his arms straight and be ready for the recoil. Dean clenched everything in his body and finally when he pulled the trigger and the large bang sounded he didn't fall straight away, he stumbled for a while before finally losing his balance. John just picked the boy up and dusted him off before telling him to try again.

When Dean finally learned not to let the gun knock him down John painted a large circle on the wall and told Dean to make the bullet hit inside the circle.

For months John took him back there and painted a smaller circle inside the larger one whenever Dean got better.

Maybe Dean would be a hero after all.

* * *

><p>When Dean was ten he went on his first hunt. John brought him along and took him to a home for troubled boys. John said he was a caseworker and that Dean's parents had sent him away after he broke his little brother's arm, he said if it was an accident or not was John's job to find out. That gave him the excuse to leave Dean, or Danny as he called himself in the home and visit him regularly to talk in private.<p>

It was not until his second night there that Dean encountered the ghost. A young boy about his own age with his face burnt almost completely off warned Dean to, "Go back to bed."

Dean had expected the ghost to attack him but instead it tried to protect him. The young boy warned Dean to, "Go back to bed before **he **catches you." The ghost would not explain its meaning so Dean ignored the warning until one of the older carers, William, caught him out of bed and brought Dean to his office where he burnt the sensitive skin of the ten year olds arms with his cigarette, all the while telling him just how much trouble he could cause for the boy if Dean ever tried to tell.

With his father's help Dean was able to identify the ghost as Brian Kale who had supposedly run away from the boy's home a few years back. They discovered William had killed him for fighting back one night while he tortured him. When Dean told his father what the old man had done to him John broke into the boy's home in the middle of the night and beat the older man until he admitted what he had done to Brian's body.

The hunt became difficult when the carer admitted he had burnt the body to destroy the evidence, but they were able to find Brian's favorite toy, a stuffed giraffe, that William had kept as a memento.

When finally the hunt was over John left an anonymous tip with the police, blaming William for the murder of both Brian and Danny, knowing that even if they could not find enough evidence to convict him the accusation alone would prevent him from working with children.

Dean's first hunt had been a success, but he could not help from tracing the circular burns on his forearms and remembering being held down in that old man's office, too afraid to put up a decent fight. Dean was supposed to be a hero, he was trained to fight monsters, but he couldn't even stop one old man with a cigarette. It was that day that Dean vowed he would never let it happen again. That day Dean made a promise to himself, he promised that he would be strong, he would be a hero like his father, better than his father. Dean promised that he would become the hero monsters had nightmares about, and no one would ever beat him again.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Authors Note: This is my first Supernatural story, the first three chapters are the introduction and after that it will get into the main thing, but I wont say what it is about just yet, I'll leave it as a mystery and see if anyone can guess.<strong>_

_**~SophieAngel69**_


	2. Chapter 2

When Dean was eleven he started to realize that he was even more different from other boys than he had originally thought. Yes he spent his weekends hunting monsters but as he got older he realized there was something else that separated him from others, and he had no idea what it was.

Just like all the other boys his age Dean liked sports, he could run laps around them all though, he loved being the strongest, the toughest, all heroes were strong. Dean liked to look at girls, he wasn't sure exactly why yet, but he liked to watch them when they weren't looking. Dean liked when they wore skirts so he could see their legs, he liked when they paid attention to him.

So why was Dean so different?

When Dean was fourteen he had his first kiss. It was awkward and wet but it was still nice. She wrapped her arms around his neck and Dean loved the feeling of her holding him. He loved the softness of her lips, he loved to tangle his fingers in her silky hair while they kissed. As the years went on he would forget her name, her face, but he never forgot her cherry lipbalm, her ebony hair which felt impossibly silky, and her strong grip around him. No matter how hard Dean tried though, he could never work out what was missing, what one little thing would have made that kiss perfect.

* * *

><p>When Dean was twelve he was playing volleyball in PE. He had a nasty run in with a werewolf the previous weekend, it had scratched him and cut deep, John stitched it up but it was a good six inch gash in his right forearm. Dean could hardly lift his arm the pain was so bad.<p>

During the game, Dean was kicking everyone's arses and just being generally awesome despite his injury, when a girl on his team was hit in the face by the ball.

The blonde girl fell down and everyone flocked around her with worry. She was crying and clutching her face but when the teacher asked her to move her hand so that he could see the damage Dean saw she had a small nosebleed. It wasn't anything serious, it would leave a little bruise but once it stopped bleeding she'd be fine.

The girl who had been hurt, Kristy, was holding back tears as the teacher took her to the nurse's office, her mother collected her and she went home for the day. It was pathetic. She just got a little bump, those balls are the softest things in the world any way. Dean didn't cry when a ghost threw a table at him the month before, if he had his father would have called him a coward. No one even laughed at her or made fun of her, they all said it was so sad she'd been hurt, Dean couldn't understand it.

Why is she allowed to feel pain? No one cares when Dean is hurt. He got into a fight with some kid who was bullying Sammy not too long ago and he was left with a black eye, no one asked Dean if he was okay, they didn't ask him if it hurt. But when Kristy showed up the next day everyone flocked to her and asked her almost constantly if she was okay? She even got to sit out of PE the next day while Dean almost reopened his stitches playing basketball.

It wasn't fair. Why did Dean have to be tough _all _the time? Just because Dean was strong didn't mean he didn't want people to care, to ask if he was okay.

It was because she was a girl, the young hunter finally concluded. Dean wasn't allowed to feel pain because he was a boy and he was supposed to be tough. Dean was tough, and strong, and brave, it still wasn't fair.

It was around this age that Dean started hating girls. He didn't completely hate them, but he was jealous. A girl could be weak or strong, or both, but as a boy Dean had to be strong and could not show any sign of weakness. Girls could grow their hair long without a second thought, they could say what they wanted and talk about how they felt. Girls could do everything, and Dean hated that he couldn't.

Girls were still pretty to look at and fun to touch, but Dean hated anyone lucky enough to be born a girl because she could chose to be whoever she wanted and he had no choice. Dean would lie and talk his way into a girl's good graces. He would pretend to care about her, listen to her thoughts and opinions, but he never cared, he was just a curious teenager who wanted to experiment, he would be gone soon and probably never see her again, he wasn't looking for a relationship.

Dean knew it wasn't their fault, they didn't chose to be born girls anymore than he chose to be born a boy, they didn't deserve his jealousy or hatred, and that's why he would lie. She would meet a nice guy who cares about her and they would talk, make out, and anything else she was up for, and then he would move on and she would spend the rest of her life thinking that the boy she made out with truly cared about her. Everyone would get what they wanted.

* * *

><p>Dean was fifteen when he lost his virginity. She was a sweet girl, but Dean didn't care, she was a girl, everyone cared about her, she didn't need him to care about her too. Dean wasn't her first, she'd had a boyfriend before Dean whom she had slept with so she didn't see it as such a big deal.<p>

As lovely as his first time was, she was not the one who changed his life. Grace, that was her name. Dean had done the same tired old routine, he listened to her opinions, complimented her, pretended he didn't hate her just for existing. But it was after the first time they had sex when she did something which startled Dean.

Grace's parents were out so she invited Dean over and they soon found themselves in her bedroom. When they were finished however and Dean went to get up but the tanned girl pulled him back into the bed with her. Before Dean could protest she held him close and lay her head on his chest. Now cuddling Dean could handle, but then Grace started talking. She talked about her hopes and dreams, what she wanted to do with her life, and this time Dean didn't pretend to be interested. He did feel closer to her after what they had done, and feeling her skin pressed against his for a reason that wasn't sex, it felt nice. So Dean talked too. He told Grace that he felt trapped, that he didn't want to be the person everyone wanted him to be. Grace cared about what Dean had to say, and he cared about what she had to say.

Dean would never admit how much he enjoyed that time, Grace even became his first real girlfriend. They only lasted a little while though as she got super clingy and Dean had to end things, but he would always remember her fondly.

After Grace Dean found a new appreciation for girls. He still made some not so nice comments about them but he wasn't only nice to them when he wanted to sleep with them, and he didn't fake it as much.

* * *

><p>When Dean was nineteen he met Rhonda. Right before they were about to sleep together she decided she wanted to try something, at the promise of sex, Dean agreed.<p>

Rhonda slowly took of her clothes revealing a pair of pink satin panties which she then handed to him and requested he wear them.

Dean was hesitant at first, but he really wanted to sleep with her so eventually he agreed. Dean was surprised by how much he enjoyed the feeling of the gentle fabric sliding along his thighs. The nineteen year old was not sure how he was supposed to fit his penis in them, especially supporting such an impressive erection. Finally he just had his erection sticking out the top. The satin felt amazing on such a sensitive area and when Rhonda started stroking him through the panties he did not last long.

Dean quite enjoyed the things he did with Rhonda and he did not like leaving her when the case was over. While his father was distracted one day Dean snuck into an adult store and bought a few pairs of panties, claiming they were a gift for his girlfriend.

They were in varying colours such as blue, green, red, black, and they ranged from modest to risqué. He wasn't sure why he bought them, but before long Dean was wearing them casually. At first he would just touch himself through the fabric but one day all his normal underwear was dirty and instead of free balling it Dean put on his most modest pair of panties. They were black with a green trim around the edges and tiny green bows, Dean had never felt prettier. Every time Dean had worn girly undies it made him feel sexy, but this was not about sex, not at all, and he felt pretty.

While on the hunt the ghost threw Dean through a large window and he sliced his leg open, they burnt the ghost and John gave him a few stitches, everything was fine, besides the stinging pain when Dean walked for the next few days.

When Dean took a shower after the hunt and took special care to clean his leg so it wouldn't get infected, he brought another pair of panties to change into. Dean would never admit it, not to Sam and certainly not to his father, but he liked to feel pretty. Not really sure why he did it, Dean picked up his razor and shaved, at first it was just his legs, he told himself it was because of the stitches, to make caring for the wound easier, and he couldn't just shave one area, so he shaved both of his legs, and then his armpits, but that was because those were practically a forest, and they got all sweaty when it was hot. One thing Dean found annoying was picking pubic hair out of his panties, so that would have to go to. Dean didn't have heaps of body hair, but his chest and back were a little hairy, and it would feel weird if the rest of him was clean shaven and that wasn't. Do people even shave their arms? Well he had the razor in his hand and he was just curious what it felt like. The only thing Dean didn't shave was his face, he wanted to, but that would be too noticeable, besides, Sam was nocking on the door to ask if he was okay.

It was strange, a very new experience for Dean. When he dressed himself he noticed the way his clothes felt on his freshly shaven skin, it was quite nice, much like the panties he wore.

* * *

><p>John and Sam did eventually notice Dean's new showering habit. It was only supposed to be a one off but he loved the way his clothes felt against his smooth skin, he loved running his hands down his body and feeling like soft silk, so when his skin started to get prickly, Dean picked up the razor again.<p>

The next time Dean was hurt on a hunt it was just a scratch on his chest but the angle was inconvenient so he had to get Sam to clean it for him once they were back at the motel. John was sitting on one of the beds, wrapping a bandage around his foot. Without thinking, as he had done many times before, Dean took off his shirt so his brother could clean the wound.

When the room fell silent Dean remembered his recent shaving habits and blushed immediately, his hands coming up to cover his chest, suddenly feeling exposed. When questioned he gave them the same lie he had told himself at first, to make it easier to take care of injuries, especially ones involving stitches.

They thought it was odd but John was all about convenience and necessity so if Dean was going to go the extra mile for his own health John was not going to complain, Sam had long ago given up trying to understand his older brother.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Authors Note: I'm not too pleased with how the intro is turning out. Please bear with me the story is good but introductions are not my strong point. I also have no experience with the topic so if I write it wrong or offend someone please let me know. Thanks for reading and I look forward to your reviews.<strong>_

_**~SophieAngel69**_


	3. Chapter 3

It was late at night, they had just finished a case and Dean needed to relax. Sam had gone back to the motel to finish up an assignment that was due soon, John and Dean had both split up to do their own thing. Dean went to a bar and chatted up some girl, she was around his age, looked like she'd had a bit of work done, but she seemed pretty eager to leave with Dean.

They went back to her place since Sam was at the motel. Alex took Dean to her apartment, it was small but he didn't care, once in the bedroom she threw the hunter onto the bed made quick work of his clothes. Dean wanted to see her too, he wanted to peel away the fabric and reveal that ochre skin, but Alex seemed quite determined to stay in control and who was Dean to complain, he liked to be taken care of sometimes.

She seemed quite pleased with his emerald panties and took her time removing them before happily sucking him off. Dean wanted more, he wanted to be inside her, to feel her pressed against him, but he would settle for returning the favor once she was done. When he offered however the strong dominant woman grew meek and declined.

After talking for a while Alex finally admitted to Dean that she was a pre-op transgender, which made no sense at all to the hunter but the more they talked, the more Alex opened up to him.

Alexandria revealed that she was originally Alexander, she had discovered at the age of fourteen that she was not like the other boys and saw a whole bunch of psychiatrists and doctors and was currently saving up for surgery to match her outside to who she was on the inside. Dean listened, he held her when her tale grew sad and assured her he would never judge her.

Dean was quite confused by Alex, he did not underst how someone could be a different gender on the inside than on the outside. The more she talked, the more sense it made.

They didn't stay in town for long but Dean spent most of his free time with the interesting girl he met. Dean found her intriguing, confusing, interesting... Even after they moved on and Dean never saw her again he still couldn't get that strange girl off his mind, and Dean could not work out why.

Dean just wanted to understand, that was all. So one night while Sam was asleep and John passed out Dean snuck out. The young hunter was just curious, that was all it was, he wanted to know why Alex chose to be a girl even though she was born a boy.

First Dean went shopping. He alternated between the, it's for my girlfriend excuse and the, I lost a bet excuse to avoid judgment while buying a matching bra and pantie set, a cute purple dress, and got himself a makeover and manicure.

Okay so it was officially the most ridiculous thing Dean had ever done. He felt overdressed, exposed and just overall silly. When Dean went to a club he was mostly hit on by men, either ones drunk enough to fall for the disguise or ones who were into that.

Dean had just wanted to understand. He wanted to know what Alex felt when she dressed like a girl. Dean didn't know why he was so obsessed with Alex and her lifestyle, maybe it was because she said she felt free after being trapped for her whole life. Maybe Dean just wanted to escape from his suffocating life and taste the freedom she had described. In the end he just felt humiliated.

As soon as Dean was out of the club he ripped off the dress in an alley and changed back into his clothes he had kept in his bag. Dean threw the entire outfit in the trash and headed back to the motel. The blond boy felt pathetic, what had ever convinced him that this was a good idea?

Dean crept past a sleeping Sam as John was in the next room, and into the bathroom he shared with his brother. Dean looked at himself in the mirror and was about to wash off the make up when he paused to look at himself.

The make up was a little thick and the colors very bright, but it didn't looks horrible. Actually, Dean looked pretty. Dean looked in the mirror for a good few minutes admiring his reflection and while he found many little things he disliked he also found many things he did like. Dean was beautiful.

When Dean finally washed the makeup off he looked in the mirror and, some of the things he liked were still there. Even clean shaven Dean still looked masculine, although not much, he did have a fairly androgynous face but it still looked male... Why did that bother him so much?

* * *

><p>The next morning Dean was woken by his father to get in the car, Sam had an exam to get too so they couldn't stay in town. As usual Dean sat in the passenger seat and Sam in the back while John drove. The blonde boy looked out the window deep in though for most of the way.<p>

Last night had changed things, he wasn't sure how but he felt different. Actually, Dean felt more normal than he ever had. Last night Dean had seen something, something inside of him that he wasn't even sure what was, but it made him feel whole, complete.

The landscape flew by and Dean watched it inattentively, the slight stinging in his fingers from where he had scraped off the nail polish kept bringing his thoughts back to last night. Dean had tried things Alex's way and it was awful, he didn't understand how she could go through that. But Back at the motel, just being himself, it felt so... Right.

And then all the pieces fell into place. Dean liked to feel pretty, Dean was jealous of the way women were treated, Dean liked wearing panties (even when it wasn't sexual), his obsession with Alex's lifestyle. There was something wrong with Dean, there had always been something wrong with him. A secret so well kept that it was hidden even from Dean, hidden by his body.

But that was the problem, his body was wrong. The more Dean thought about it the more sense it made, the more aware he became of how uncomfortable he felt in his own body. Dean was never supposed to be a boy, because buried inside the body of a boy, was a girl.

Dean didn't want to believe it, it was a scary thought, being a girl this entire time and never knowing it. Dean tried to push the thought aside, determined to continue living as before, but it was too late. Dean knew who she was now and she could never forget. The cat would not go back in the bag, the thought could not be unthought. Dean was a girl.

Maybe he was just a girly boy, they exist. Some boys like girly things, but when Dean tried to force that idea upon herself it did not work. Her skin felt uncomfortable, like it was being stretched over something it didn't fit, like it was being smothered. Thinking about it made Dean itch, she was trying to fit a round peg in a square hole and it wouldn't fit.

Dean was scared, if she was a girl... What would this mean for the rest of her life? How would Sam and John react? What would people think? It took Dean a while to accept who she was, and she could not keep a secret this big, not any longer.

Sam was the only one Dean could trust, her little brother, he would be the first Dean would tell. It would probably be a long time before Dean was ready to start living as who she was, but she just needed someone to accept her for who she was. Sam was graduating soon and had a ton of work to do, and he actually cared about his work, so Dean decided to wait. As soon as Sam graduated she would tell him, and hope that he didn't freak out about losing his big brother. John was the hard part, Dean wasn't sure if she could ever tell him who she really was, but that was a problem for another time.

* * *

><p>It was Sam's graduation and Dean had everything planned out. After the ceremony she would take him out to celebrate, and afterwards she would tell him. But first, this was about Sam, he was finally finished highschool and he was damn well going to enjoy it.<p>

Dean watched her little brother collect his certificate and she felt selfish. Sure she was happy for Sam, but she was happier at the thought of finally telling someone. Once the ceremony was over the three of them went back to the motel so Sam could change to go out for the night with Dean. But once he was dressed Dean's brother picked up his bags and announced that he was leaving.

Time stopped and Dean's heart broke. Sam was going away, he'd received a scholarship to Stanford and he was leaving straight away. John ordered him to stay, Dean begged him to stay, but he had made his decision. Sam walked out the door and headed to the bus stop.

Why wouldn't he stay? Was Dean not good enough? The day that Dean was supposed to tell Sam everything he left and didn't turn back. Never wrote, never called, it was like he cut Dean out of his life for good. If this was some kind of message from god to keep her silence and continue to play the dutiful son, Dean was listening.

* * *

><p>It was a few months later when John and Dean were on a really simple hunt when John received a call, another hunter needed a second pair of hands. Seeing as this one was so easy John left Dean to take care of it, he even left him the car.<p>

They were supposed to meet up once they were both done but things kept coming up and soon enough the only contact the two had was a phone call at the end of each hunt to let them know they are alive.

And so Dean was left alone, all right after she accepted that she was a girl. That couldn't be a coincidence, it must be some kind of punishment.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Authors Note: And that concludes the introduction, did anyone see this coming. Once again, I have no experience with this so I hope I wrote it right, what do you think?<em>**

**_~SophieAngel69_**


	4. Chapter 4

Dean couldn't breathe. The air was thick and stuffy, it smelled of blood, dirt, and rotted flesh. Dean scrambled around for a way out but she could hardly move, she was trapped in a small space. The walls were made of wood that was barely smooth enough not to leave splinters as her fingers explored it's surface. Dean felt around and soon discovered a zippo lighter in her pocket.

Flicking it on she discovered it was hers, the one she had carried with her all those years ago. Back when she was alive, back before hell. Dean tried to call out, desperate for someone to hear but her voice was hoarse and her throat sore. Pushing with her free hand against the wood Dean found bits of dirt sprinkling through the cracks. The air was growing thinner, probably because of the small flame which gave her light stealing the little oxygen she had. Dean was running out of time so, summoning all her limited strength she smacked against the wood of her prison until it gave way, showering her in dirt and blocking out the light. It was not easy but soon Dean felt air on her fingers and immediately sent her other hand to follow it's path. Once her hands were released it became more difficult as she had nothing to hold onto. The deceased hunter searched for a purchase and finally found soft grass and dirt under her fingers. With great difficulty she was finally able to pull herself up until her head was exposed.

Dean tried to take in a deep breath of air but with her chest still trapped it was difficult and she immediately coughed up as much of the dirt as she could. Dean pulled herself out of the ground and when finally she was free she lay there heaving, attempting to make sense of what had just happened.

Dean remembered dying. She had traded her life for her brother's on the condition that she went to hell. Dean felt as though she had been in hell forever when in reality it had only been a few decades of torment. But where was she now?

The young woman raised her tired head and looked around. This was not hell. She had aches and pains she had not felt for such a long time, the sore muscles that came with being alive. But how? Dean had died, how could she possibly be back? Marking the spot where Dean had climbed out of her coffin was a small handmade cross and surrounding the shallow grave were dozens of spikes, obviously there to keep others out. But why? And how had she climbed out of hell?

Regardless of the explanation, she was sitting in the middle of nowhere covered in dirt. Dean stood slowly and began to brush the filth from her skin, hair, and clothes. As she brushed her hand along her chest she came into contact with something very unexpected.

Breasts. Dean had breasts.

The confused woman breathed deeply through her dry throat while she considered the possible cause of all this. Dean had been told that in hell human souls were corrupted and became demons, and demons, when they went top side, had to take new bodies as vessels. But that process was supposed to take centuries, not decades. Although Dean had done some rather corrupt and even demonic things down there, she did not feel like a demon.

Could that be it? Was Dean a demon? If she were to possess someone and steal their body as her own she would most definitely want one that was physically female. But this was not how Dean imagined being a demon felt, not that she had put much thought into it.

Tired, weak, exhausted, dehydrated and hungry, Dean picked a direction and began to walk. Eventually the tired hunter came upon a gas station. She banged on the door and called for someone, anyone...

After concluding that the place was abandoned she removed her jacket from her waist and wrapped it around her hand for protection as she punched the glass window. After letting herself in Dean headed straight for the cabinet containing bottles of water, quickly bringing one to her lips and gulping the liquid. It was heavenly, never before had Dean so enjoyed the sensation of drinking water.

Once her throat was feeling better she paused to look around. The place was rustic, a bit beaten down, but overall it was in good shape and fairly well stocked. Spotting a newspaper rack she walked over to it and picked up the top paper. Ignoring the headline, Dean's eyes focused on the date, September 18th, 2008.

"September?" She mumbled to herself. That would mean she had only been gone four months, not forty years like she remembered.

Dean made her way to the back room where she found a sink and immediately washed her face. The water felt amazing on her dry skin and daringly she looked up to the mirror above the sink. The blonde woman was shocked to see her own face staring back at her. It was her, just like before, only female.

Dean immediately began inspecting her body and searching for any differences she could find. Her jawline was softer and her cheekbones less prominent, her stubble was gone but her freckles remained. Her eyes were softer and her lashes longer, but it was definitely still her.

Slowly lifting her shirt which was now too tight around the chest she found the flawless skin of her stomach stretched over taught muscles. Dean remembered being ripped apart as she was dragged down to hell but there was not a mark left behind, even old scars she had picked up in her youth were gone. The only signs of injuries Dean could find were those she sustained climbing out of her coffin. Not sure what she expected to find, Dean lifted her left sleeve and was greeted with the sight of a large, red, swollen handprint.

Confused, but keeping a level head, Dean pinned the bottom of her shirt with her teeth, exposing her chest. They were a fairly nice pair of breasts, but they were not supposed to be there, so using a bandage she had grabbed from the store, she set about bandaging her chest to hide them. It was uncomfortable, confining, she could feel the restriction with every breath she took, but for now it would have to do. Dean had conned everyone she had ever met into believing she was a man and she was not about to stop now.

Dean went through the store collecting food and water, whatever she could carry. She paused as her favorite porn magazine caught her eye. After decades in hell Dean had to smile at the idea of laying back and enjoying human comforts, so that went in the bag too.

While she was cleaning out the cash register the small television turned itself on beside her, playing nothing but static. Dean looked around to assure herself she was alone before slowly reaching up to turn it off.

The second the TV was silenced the radio turned on and began playing the same static. As soon as Dean turned towards the radio the television came back to life, echoing the radio.

Realizing something was very wrong Dean's instincts kicked in and she grabbed the salt off the shelf and immediately began laying a salt line across the windowsill. Before she could even finish one window though a high pitched screech caught her attention, quickly gaining in volume until Dean had to cover her ears. When the windows began exploding she threw herself at the ground and covered her face with her arms.

When finally it was over dean grabbed the plastic bag she had placed her stolen supplies in and left without delay. Hunter or no, she had just climbed out of hell, this was not something she wanted to deal with right now

* * *

><p>The first thing she did was call Sam, but the number had been disconnected. So Dean called Bobby, but as soon as she said her name the older man hung up. Realizing everyone she knew thought she was dead Dean called back immediately to explain but received only a death threat in response. Obviously he wouldn't believe her over the phone.<p>

After hot wiring a car and driving to the junkyard of a home where Bobby lived Dean knocked on the door and waited awkwardly for an answer. When the older hunter finally opened the door he blinked, unable to believe his eyes. Once sure that his dead surrogate son was standing at his front door he took a step back in shock.

"Surprise," was all the younger woman could think to say.

"I don't..." Bobby began, backing away, but in his shock he could not finish that statement.

Understanding what her father figure was trying to say Dean replied. "Yeah me neither." And with that she stepped inside the familiar building saying , "but here I am."

Bobby Singer, the paranoid idiot, discretely reached for the silver knife he kept by the door. As soon as he attacked, on instinct Dean fought him off. Bobby had been one of the people who had taught her to fight and she knew how the older man fought.

She would not lay a hand on the man who had raised her, instead she grabbed his arm before he could stab her and used the momentum to deflect its course and ran passed the old hunter. Dean found herself in the kitchen and immediately grabbed a chair, placing it between herself and her attacker.

"Bobby! BOBBY!" The blonde yelled, holding her hand out to stop his approach. "It's me," Dean assured the man she loved as a father.

"My ass," he responded, already calculating his next attack.

Desperate to get through to him she said quickly. "Your name is Robert Stephen Singer, you became a hunter after your wife got possessed, your about the closest thing I have to a father."

He hesitated. All logic said this was impossible, Dean was dead, he could not come back, but some small part of Bobby hoped, wished that this could be true.

"Bobby," she said slowly, letting down her guard. "It's me."

The older hunter looked at her in disbelief. Slowly, the knife still in his grasp but no longer pointed at Dean, he pushed the chair aside and approached the young woman. Dean was cautious, watching for any sign of attack but did not move as Bobby reached out a shaky hand to grasp her shoulder. Not until he tried to slice her throat anyway.

Prepared for the attack Dean quickly pinned Bobby's arms behind his back and grabbed the knife. "I'm not a shapeshifter," she assured the older man.

"Then you're a revenen," he replied, struggling to get free.

Dean released Bobby and once he moved out of arms length he turned to face the impersonater, ready to continue the fight. Seeing the knife now pointed at him the older hunter paused to find a method of attack that would not get him killed.

"If I was either," Dean began, pulling up her sleeve. "Could I do this, with a silver knife?"

When Dean looked down at her arm it gave Bobby a chance to attack, but he didn't. He had to see what Dean was doing. The blonde woman cringed at the thought of what she was about to do and pressed the silver blade with the symbol carved into it at the base to her flesh and slowly drew it across until she felt the sting of the metal and her blood began to flow. She pulled the knife away to reveal that the skin had not been burned and looked up to meet the older man's disbelieving stare.

"Dean?" He asked, his eyes wide.

The younger hunter breathed an internal sigh of relief and took a few step towards him saying, "That's what I've been trying to tell you."

Overcome with emotion and blinking back tears Bobby pulled his boy into his arms and held him tight, worried that if he let go he would lose him again. "It's, good to see you boy," he said when they parted.

Dean fought the urge to look away in shame, not only was she not Bobby's 'boy' but now it would be much harder to hide. "Yeah, you too," she replied to cover her shame.

"But," Bobby began, knowing this was too good to be true. "How did you bust out?"

"I don't know," she admitted, looking around the room as though it held some clue. "I just woke up in a bo-" the rest of her explanation was cut off as she had water splashed in her face.

Dean mentally kicked herself for not expecting it and turned away to spit out what had splashed into her mouth. "I'm not a demon either you know," she added, turning back to face the older man.

"Sorry," Bobby apologized, holding a flask of holy water. "Can't be too careful," he explained.

* * *

><p>"That don't make a lick of sense," Bobby stated after hearing Dean's story. The younger hunter had to agree, there was no reasonable explanation, yet here she was.<p>

"Dean," Bobby began. "You're chest was ribbons, your insides were slop, not to mention you've been buried for four months. "Even if you could slip outta hell and back into your meat suit-"

"Yeah I know," Dean cut him off, awkwardly not meeting the older man's eyes. "I should look like a thriller video reject..."

The silence stretched on a few seconds too long before Bobby asked. "What aren't you tellin' me Dean?"

She continued to look at anything but him. "I'm not so sure its **my **meat suit."

The older hunter's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What are you sayin' boy?" Bobby looked the younger man over, now that he thought aboat it, something was definitely different. It was subtle, that was for sure, the older hunter could not put his finger on just what was wrong with the boy before him.

"I-" Dean began but she could not bring herself to finish. "There are a couple things different that I can't explain. I don't think this is the same body I had before, but I don't think it is anyone else's either." Bobby opened his mouth to ask again but Dean continued before he had a chance. "I mean every scar, every bruise, all gone, like this body is new... And then there is this." Dean finally looked to Bobby's face to see his reaction after revealing the red swollen handprint on her shoulder.

Dean heard him inhale quickly. "Do you know what could leave a mark like this?" She asked the person who always had answers, even for the questions you didn't ask.

Bobby just shook his head and cast a glance at the mountains of books strewn around the place. "No but... I'll see what I can find." The older man promised. "Not sure where to start looking though, anything else you got to help me narrow it down?"

Dean bit her lip awkwardly. "Well whoever made this body or whatever they did, they made a mistake." She couldn't bring herself to say anymore. It would help Bobby find the son of a bitch, but she could never tell him who she truly was.

"What kind of mistake?" The older hunter asked when Dean was silent too long.

Dean closed her eyes and took a deep breath, planning her next words in a thousand ways before finally admitting, "I... I have, girl bits."

Finally she looked up to see the man she considered a father and saw his eyes wide with shock. "You mean-" He began, unable to finish the question. "You have-" as tried again he waved a hand in front of his body in at attempt at a gesture he did not complete. "But you... You don't look like a girl." Bobby finally said and Dean sighed.

"Well yeah," she shrugged awkwardly. "I wake up with a pair of tits and no dick what to you expect me to do? Show up in a freaking dress?" To prove her point she lifted her shirt to reveal the bandages across her chest. "Now tell me you can find a way to fix this?" The younger hunter begged her father figure.

No matter how much Dean wanted to be herself, she couldn't. Dean had to be a man, the perfect soldier, son, and brother. There would never be a place in the world for Dean as she truly was.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Authors Note: I realise I swapped gender a couple times and I mean no offense by it, that is becaise I was describing Bobby looking at Dean as a boy because he doesnt know.<strong>_

_**~SophieAngel69**_


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